Dear Kathy

19 year old Kathy has just graduated and it's time to go back to her country where all her family and friends are. She decides to start packing, but when she gets to the apartment that her brother and her share together, she finds a letter on the kitchen table. The letter is from a dear old friend who urgently begs her to stay where she is and not to return.

( The continue of this I created as another novel because i am having problems to add chapters to this particular novel...)

Submitted:Jan 31, 2013
Reads: 99
Comments: 8
Likes: 5

Dear Kathy

Introduction

With my tears steadily streaming down my cheeks I slowly fall to
the wooden floor with my knees facing the bed. I'm alone in my
bedroom with the door shut. I even turned the lights off so that
my brother would believe that I had gone off to sleep. I open my
mouth and shake my head violently as if I was screaming in pain,
but not a sound comes from my body. I'm shouting silently. I try
to contain myself after a few minutes of weeping and shaking, but
the more I try, the harder it became to keep myself from making a
sound that might be heard through the thin walls of my simple,
yellow room.

I take a deep breath, bury my entire face into a purple polka
dotted pillow, and let out a loud scream that bursts from my
throat until all of the air in my lungs gives out and I nearly
faint. Putting the pillow down I get up on my feet and crawl into
bed, crying the entire time. I refuse to take the blanket from
under me and put it over for comfort. I'm cold and it's best this
way, so that I don't keep all of my concentration to my own
sorrow. I weep out so many tears that my eyes become tired and my
lips become extremely warm and dry.

I try to pull myself together, looking at all the positive things
in my life. It's never been like me to cry and feel this way.
It's never been like me to feel so down and alone. I've always
been the positive person in my family and in my friends group.
People call me strong yet innocent, and here I am crying every
single teardrop that my eyes can muster out. The worst part about
all of this is the fact that I have to continue the next day as
if nothing has happened. I have no one to confide in because I'm
supposed to be the one they turn too, the one person who stands
strong no matter what.

I try laughing to lift my mood but instead I wind up coughing. ``
I'm being silly, crying this hard over something so small…`` at
least it should be considered small compared to the problems and
difficulties that other people face in life.

I sit up on my bed, turn my reading light on and take the letter
out of my pocket. I read it again, and again,…and again, but no
matter how many times I read it, the feelings are all there, in
between each and every word. My body starts shaking again as I
try to read the words out loud,

`` Dear Kathy,

I sincerely hope that you have received this letter, I have
something very important to tell you. If in fact you have
received this then the men I have entrusted this to have worked
hard and risked their own lives to send this out of the country
and should be respected greatly for their bravery and loyalty to
their words.

Please, read this carefully and obey my urgent request. The war
here has gotten out of control, and the police officers have run
out of the city and into the rainforest in hiding while the U.N.
has been trying to fight off the rebels without much success. Not
a night goes by where I don't hear shooting or shouting. People,
particularly women, are continuously being kidnapped. I won't lie
to you, I am afraid of my own wellbeing, and even more so afraid
that I might not ever be able to see you again. Although I hold
these fears, I want them to be my own and not to become fears
that you would have to carry with me if you were to return.
Please, I beg of you, under NO circumstances do I want you to be
as daring as to return here.

If this letter is my final chance to say something to you before
I died, then I would like to add, that I am so thankful that I
have met you and that I had the chance to be called, your friend.

Goodbye dearest Kathy. Know that I will always remember you and I
pray for you every day. I hope that my prayers are heard. For if
they are, than I won't be expecting to see you here for as long
as the rebels continue to raid our villages.

I send this with all of my love,

Kinta.``

I stare blankly at the letter in my hand once I have finished
reading. After a long pause I repeated the last sentence to
myself again, `` I send this with all of my love….Kinta….``

I hold my breath and try to steady my breathing. My hands felt
cold as I held the wrinkled- up letter that seemed more like a
death note that held the victim's final words, then a simple
letter from a dear friend. My body feels weak from the crying and
constant shaking. Nothing was ever been the same once I left my
home land. All that I had, all that I was, felt like it was being
taken away from me. This country that I now live in, has changed
me in so many ways... Now I always knew that there was a war back
home in my country. The war had already been there for a few
years. It was because of the war that I had left, and now that I
decide to return the war had only gotten worse, and far more
dangerous for a white girl like me to go back.

I shudder as I think of the worst. What if the rebels win over?
What if the government can't ``deal`` with the situation at hand?
By the time the war will be over most of my friends and family
would have either been killed…or …no, no I can't even finish that
thought. I take another deep breath and sigh unsteadily.

I try to close my eyes and think of all the good times that I had
spent with my friends and family when I was younger, when I was
home. I smile when I remember that one bright sunny day when I
had first met Kinta. I smile as I see images play in my mind.
There I was reading an amazing book that I had just received from
my aunt. I was walking along the river line thinking that as long
as I heard the river I could read my book and walk towards home
at the same time without losing my way in the rainforest, but
what I hadn't anticipated was that up ahead another river line
was going to cross horizontally to the one that I was walking
beside by.

The next thing I knew I had slipped into it and was dripping wet
while still holding the book in both of my hands. It took me a
few seconds until I snapped back into reality realizing what had
just happened and once more, realizing that someone behind me was
laughing…Kinta. Of course I had to laugh as well. I must have
been quite a sight. After a while of laughing together, Kinta
came towards me and pulled me up. Still with a grin and a chuckle
that could just light up anyone's day. It was at that moment that
we became instant friends.

I smile to myself with tears still on my cheeks from crying. I
laugh out loud thinking of what Kinta would say if he saw me in
this state. I can see him now with his face all scrunched up like
that of an old man's telling me that this is how I would look in
just a few years if I would keep this frown on my face.

I try to turn my smile into a grin. That's what Kinta would want,
for me to be ok, to be happy and to stay positive. I fold the
letter and put it back into my jeans pocket. Take another deep
breath, and sigh loudly leaving any bit of me that might have
wanted to cry again behind.

A teardrop threatens to fall but I close my eyes tightly and lay
myself to bed. I pull the purple blanket from under me and tuck
myself in. The room is quite and still. I open my eyes and notice
how dark it is, even with my curtains opened and pulled to the
sides. It's pitch black outside with the clouds shutting out any
light that the stars and moon try to shine down. Closing my eyes
I noticed that I was shivering. I pull the blanket closer to my
body, but I still feel cold. I try to sleep with good thoughts,
but when I finally fall asleep, a nightmare takes place in my
mind. The nightmare held all of my greatest fears and made them
all come true.

Even as I sleep, peace refuses to come to me. There is nothing
and no one to comfort me. I feel myself slowly breaking as my
heart warns me of shaddering into a million pieces unless I find
the peace that I so desperately needed. I've been hurt by the
negativity that this world has brought unto my friends' lives and
now has infected me with it as well. What little strength I had
left just crumbled into the pit of my stomach. Penetrated by the
words I read from one single letter. A letter from a dear friend
whom I might never see again.

*

Morning comes and I feel the sun hitting my face. I pull the
blanket over my head refusing to get up to start the day. My
cheeks feel rather dry and crispy from the salty tears that had
dried up overnight. I managed to fall asleep again only to be
awakened by the sound of my brother knocking at my bedroom door.

``Kathy? ...Kathy?....Hey, Kath are you awake?``

I groan and mumble to myself `` I just can't get a break can I?``

`` What's that?``

``Ya, ya, I'm awake…`` I say wearily as I lift the blanket off of
me and swing my legs out to the side of the bed.

`` Ok, well I just wanted to tell ya that I made some breakfast
for you. I hope you'll like it! I made waffles, blueberry
pancakes , chocolate whipped cream… and I even made those weird
peanut butter and honey dipped strawberries you always liked!``
His voice beams through the door.

I was about to tell him that I wasn't hungry but then I realized
what he had just said… Waffles…pancakes...chocolate whipped
cream… and those strawberry dipped thingies? ``He must have heard
me cry last night…``

``What's that?``

``Oh, uh…nothing, it was nothing.``

``So will you come and have breakfast with me?`` his voice sounds
encouraging…even sympathetic like.

Although all I wanted to do was to stay in my room for the rest
of the day, I couldn't turn down my brother's offer. I knew what
he was trying to do, and I didn't want my depression to affect
him, or to hurt him. He was all the family I have here and we're
really close.

`` Alright, I'll come soon, let me just get dressed and freshen
up a bit.`` I reply.

`` Ya ok, just hurry up before the pancakes and waffles get cold…
and before I eat up all those delicious, juicy strawberries! I'll
try to hold myself but I don't think I can!`` He laughs heartily
as his footsteps descend quickly into the kitchen.

I can't help but smile. The one person that can make me grin even
in times like these has always been my brother Jacob. He was
adopted by my parents when he was about 8 years old and I was 6
at the time and living in one of Kenya's rainforests with my
folks. His village had been raided and burned to the ground by
rebel soldiers. Who apparently had nothing ``better`` to do.

His mother was shot while protecting Jacob in trying to escape.
She wasn't instantly killed though, just wounded. She shouted to
him, `` Run! Run Jacob! Don't look back! I promise you,
everything will be alright just keep running!`` He heard his
mother's voice echoe from behind him as he runs, while listening
to the sound of his village burning to the ground as angry
soldiers laugh and shoot like drunk men. With tears dropping from
under his chin, Jacob continued running into the thickest part of
the rainforest. Until finally, the last thing he heard was
another shot from a distance, followed by a complete silence.
Even the animals and birds were too afraid to show their hiding
places by making a sound.

Jacob would call out his mother's name over, and over again, but
the only answer he got was that of 2 rebel soldiers shouting, ``
There is someone over there!`` The first voice sounded thick and
angry `` Well then don't just stand around! Go and take a look!``
The second voice commanded.

Jacob instantly turned away from the voices heard and ran as fast
as his little legs could carry him towards the opposite
direction. The souls of his feet were terribly scrapped up and
bleeding, but he kept on running while ignoring the soaring pain.
Even now you can see the scars that he had received that horrible
day.

After about a week of wondering through the rainforest he
stumbled upon our village. My parents were just outside of the
village taking pictures when they saw a shocked, shriveled up
little boy with a terrified expression on his face. He had never
before seen white people. It looked like he was about to collapse
due to his weak condition from all those day of running and with
little food. So my father walked towards him, afraid that he
might drop at any second...which he did, but my father managed to
get to his side just in time before his body touched the ground.